legacy (planting seeds in a garden)
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Gwenog Jones doesn't like Slytherin's habit of only allowing wizards on the Quidditch team, and she plans to fight for her right and the right of every future Slytherin witch.


_Hogwarts, Assignment 1_

 _Muggle History, task 1: Write about a person or group fighting for equality._

 _Bath Bomb Appreciation, Girl Power: Write about a powerful female._

 _Word Count: 1644_

 _Note 1: Gwenog does not have a canon House listed, so I took some liberties here._

 _Note 2: While movie canon gives Slytherin's Quidditch team a little female representation, there is nothing within the books to suggest that team was ever particularly inclusive._

* * *

I. 1983

Gwenog bounces anxiously as she waits. Her turn is coming, and she can't wait for her moment to shine. She's been sneaking out for a year, practicing as much as she can, and now she finally gets to show off her skills.

"Nott! You're up!" Benjamin Rosier calls, his dark eyes passing right over Gwenog.

Before the wiry boy next to her can step forward, Gwenog pushes him back and steps up to the Captain. "I don't think so," she says sharply, gripping her broomstick until her knuckles are ghostly white. "Last I checked, _Jones_ comes before _Nott_."

Benjamin regards her for a moment before laughing. "Maybe if we were seeing who could perform the best domestic magic," he says coldly before waving Nott forward. "Quidditch is a man's sport, love. Maybe you should try choir."

Gwenog feels her eye twitch. A _man's_ sport. "Rubbish! All the other Houses have witches on their teams," she insists.

She's well aware that the others are watching them now. Good. Let them watch Rosier's pride crumble.

He pushes a hand through his blond, windswept hair before taking a deep breath. "Slytherin's team will always be for blokes," he says firmly. "Rules mean nothing when tradition is at risk. Move along, Jones."

She opens her mouth to argue, but someone behind her adds, "Shove off, Gwenog!"

Her cheeks burn. She had expected some support from her Housemates, and now it feels like her heart is shattering. Taking a deep breath, she holds her head high and looks Rosier in the eye. "This isn't over," she says simply before stalking off.

…

"Miss Jones!" Professor Slughorn says warmly. "Come in, come in! Can I get you anything? A drink? Something to snack on?"

Gwenog tugs at her dark braid before shaking her head. Professor Slughorn is a great person to visit socially, but she's all business today. The fourteen year old sits down in the comfortable armchair across from her Head of House. "I wanted to talk to you about Quidditch."

"Fine sport! I was never much for playing, but it's quite exciting," Slughorn says brightly, plucking a crystallized pineapple from a tray on his desk and nibbling it. "I hear Benjamin is assembling a top notch team this year."

Gwenog shifts uncomfortably. She wrings her hands together, carefully considering her next words. "You see, sir, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I wanted to try out for the team."

"Did you? Splendid!" he booms before summoning a bottle of mead and two glasses. "Just a little drink to celebrate."

She shakes her head and politely declines. "Rosier wouldn't let me try out," she says.

The atmosphere changes immediately. The bottle slips from the older man's hands, landing against the table with a loud _thump._ His usually kind eyes narrow, and his lips form an annoyed scowl. "And why not?"

"He reckons it's a man's sport and won't let me try."

"Hogwash!" Slughorn climbs to his feet, shaking his head. "We'll see about that."

Gwenog can't help but smile as she follows her Head of House out of his office. She wishes she could have handled this without going to Slughorn, but she's done what has to be done. Even if she doesn't make the team, at least she knows she's done everything in her power to have a chance.

…

Benjamin meets her on the pitch, his eyes narrowing. "You shouldn't have gone to Slughorn," he growls. "Just accept it and walk away."

Gwenog smiles sweetly at him before waving at Professor Slughorn in the stands. "Why would I walk away?" she asks. "Slughorn is on my side."

He scowls and steps back, shaking his head. "It's the way it's always been, Jones," he says. "What are you trying to prove?"

Gwenog mounts her broomstick, still smiling. Too many Slytherin witches would be happy to push their desires aside for the sake of tradition. Like them, Gwenog has been taught that her only goal in life should be to marry a rich man and be content to live as a trophy wife.

"I'm proving that women can have big dreams too," she tells him before kicking off.

Gwenog had worried that they would go easy on her. She quickly realizes that they are giving her a harder time than any of the boys who had tried out. A small laugh spills from her lips as she cracks her bat against an incoming Bludger. They're scared of her and what she can do. A woman with dreams and ideas does not have a place in their traditional Pureblood society; in their eyes, she is dangerous.

Another Bludger comes flying at her. Gwenog narrowly drops into a sloth grip in time. With another laugh, she rights herself, gripping her bat tightly. She's ready.

…

"After seeing both Miss Jones and Mister Nott, I think the winner should be obvious," Slughorn says.

Benjamin stands straight and tall, a proud smirk on his thin lips. Gwenog resists the urge to roll her eyes. If he honestly think Nott has done better, he's blind.

"Welcome to the team, Miss Jones," Slughorn beams, clapping the Captain on the shoulder. "Good to see our House keeping with the times and making strides."

Benjamin grimaces, his pale skin growing an angry shade of red. "Right," he says curtly. "Glad to have you."

Once their professor has left, however, everything changes. Benjamin catches her by the arm as she starts off the pitch. "Don't get too excited," he says. "You will be the last witch we ever have on the team."

"Is that so?" she challenges, pulling her arm out of his grip.

"I will make sure the new requirements are too much for any girl," he tells her.

"Know what, Rosier? I think you shouldn't underestimate a determined woman." With that, she turns on her heel and walks off, keeping her head held high and a triumphant smile on her lips.

"Like any other girl would ever try out!" he calls after her. "You've proven nothing!"

"Wait and see," she mumbles.

II. 1996

It's feels like it's been ages since she's been in the stands at a match; as a Beater for the Holyhead Harpies, she rarely has a chance to be a spectator. "Thanks for inviting me, Horace," she says.

"Of course, dear," he tells her, grinning brightly. "I do hope you'll make it to the next Slug Club event. So many promising young witches and wizards. I know Miss Weasley would love the chance to meet you."

Gwenog offers him a stiff smile and a noncommittal shrug of her shoulders. She isn't here to make plans with her old professor; she wants to see how far her old team has come.

Seven figures dressed in green and silver appear on the pitch, and Gwenog moves her binoculars over her eyes. A deep frown pulls at her lips. While they look perfectly strong and capable, they are noticeably all males.

"We have a good team this year," he old professor assures her. "None of them have your heart, but I think you'll be quite impressed."

 _Like any other girl would ever try out!_ Benjamin Rosier's snide voice creeps into her thoughts.

She turns her binoculars to the student section. There are quite a few girls in the stands, cheering and clapping for their team. Why aren't any of them on the pitch? She had worked so hard to make the Slytherin team more inclusive. Are there really no girls today willing to honor her legacy?

…

"Can't win them all, I'm afraid," Horace says as he and Gwenog sit in his office after the match.

"I see Slytherin's team has gone back to being a boys' club," she notes bitterly, accepting a glass of wine from the older man. "I'm sure Rosier would be happy his guidelines are still in place."

"None of the girls want to try out," he tells her. "They're more than happy to let the boys play."

Gwenog scowls. She doesn't expect every girl to want to break tradition, but she can't help but feel disappointed. Is it possible that she had fought for nothing?

"Don't fret, dear," Horace says, reaching over and patting her hand. "You're still a legend. The only female Slytherin Quidditch player in living memory! Quite a title to hold."

Her lips quirk, but she can't bring herself to smile. A title is nice, but it isn't what she wants. She wants a Slytherin team with boys and girls playing together equally, bringing glory to her beloved House.

"Maybe one day," she sighs.

III. 2014

Gwenog finds a place in the stands, watching curiously. She doesn't know why Ginny had insisted she come to Slytherin's first match, but she couldn't resist.

"Wait for it," Ginny says, as though she can read the older witch's mind. "I think you'll like this."

"Weren't you a Gryffindor?" Gwenog asks. "Why would you be excited for me to see a Slytherin match?"

Instead of answering, Ginny gestures to the pitch as the Slytherin team files out. Gwenog doesn't need binoculars to see the short girl with strawberry blonde hair pulled into a ponytail among the boys.

"Dominique Weasley," Ginny tells her proudly. "Keeper. First girl to make the team since you left Hogwarts."

"Have they changed the guidelines?" Gwenog wonders aloud as group of young witches and wizards shoot into the air.

"I don't know. Dom said it wasn't easy to get on the team," she says. "Four other girls didn't make the cut."

Gwenog rests a hand over her heart. Only a few decades ago, one girl trying to make the team had been scandalous. Now, five girls have tried. Knowing that she's made a difference and paved the way for a more inclusive team is more rewarding than any other victory could ever be.


End file.
